


Looking

by dreamsofdramione



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDD, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Head Boy Draco Malfoy, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Shameless Smut, Smut, Translation Available, Voyeurism, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:01:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26689354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofdramione/pseuds/dreamsofdramione
Summary: Hermione didn't want to see Draco shagging a witch on the couch in their shared Head Dorm, truly she didn't, but she couldn't seem to look away.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 109
Kudos: 932
Collections: DH





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elithien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elithien/gifts).



> This short fic is based on a headcanon [Elithien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elithien/pseuds/elithien) shared on the Department of Fanfiction Discord wayyyyy back in April. I started it back then before the world went to hell in a handbasket and only recently pulled it back out of my docs and dusted it off to finish up. 
> 
> *Warning*  
> This fic DOES depict Hermione watching Draco and someone else in the beginning so if that is not your thing, please don't read!
> 
> Now translated in Russian: [Russian Translation on ficbook](https://ficbook.net/readfic/10390471)

At one point in her life, silence had held an eerie quality for Hermione. On the run in the Forest of Dean during arguably the darkest time in her life, the silence had felt like a prelude of sorts. It kept her on edge, watching, waiting for the single snap of a twig, her wand at the ready to make a split-second decision. 

Silence, back then, had been a fragile thing, prone to break without warning. 

Now, though, as she finished her rounds, with Hogwarts’ corridors deserted and steeped in that same silence, save for the snap of her own shoes against the well-worn stone, there was something oddly comforting about the lack of sound in a place that was always otherwise bustling.

There was something to be said for the liveliness of noises, too, of course, something about the constant reminder that life had, in fact, gone on after the war. Some of the students she was now beholden to protect had never known the sharp sting of loss, had never felt the desolation of fighting in a war as nothing more than an ill-equipped child. It was comforting, in a way, nearly a year beyond the day those final lives had been lost, to know that not everything had been irreparably scarred. Sure the castle walls wore the evidence of battle, but they’d been mended. The castle was sentient, after all, and it’d been through more than any individual occupant could ever imagine.

A sound pulled Hermione from her thoughts—a groan of sorts. Remaining as still as possible, trying her best to zone in on the source of the strange noise, Hermione felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle. Before she’d even registered the motion, her wand was digging into her palm. 

A beat of silence passed, then two. 

Blowing out a breath, she was just about to resume the final sweep of her rounds when she heard it again. It sounded like a sob, choked and clipped, but she was rushing towards the source before she’d even realized her feet were moving. Another holdover from the war, she assumed, the instinct to act before thinking. 

Her feet skidded to a stop just outside of a door she knew all too well, but it was too late. Panting as she tried to catch her breath, clutching her chest, listening—she _knew_ no one was in imminent danger. In fact, it sounded like quite the opposite. 

For a solid minute, Hermione just stood there. Her feet didn’t move. Her eyes stayed focused on the sliver of space just between the door and the frame, and she did nothing more than simply listen. Hermione was bright, but it didn’t take much wit to deduce what was going on behind the door. She knew what _those_ sounds meant. Something inside of her twisted and knotted itself in her stomach as she took breath after breath, trying and failing not to think about the source. 

With one small step, she’d be able to see inside. All she’d have to do is move a matter of inches and the couch would be visible in the crack all those salacious sounds were seeping through. 

“What am I doing?” she muttered, shifting on her feet and noting that her pulse had yet to fully settle. 

The corridor was hot, her robes were too thick, and she couldn’t make herself calm down as the symphony of noises flooded her senses. It had been far too long since she’d heard those same sounds. Far too long since she’d felt that tell-tale ache between her thighs that pulsed and flickered to life with each passing second. 

All it would take— 

Just like moments before, her body made a decision without her mind’s consent and she found herself leaning against the door frame. What was simply a flame before flared into a full-blown blaze as she peered into the crack and held her breath. 

There was no question about what was going on. 

The couch in the Head Boy and Girl’s shared common room faced the door and she could see two bodies slotted together. 

Draco Malfoy was shagging someone. 

Draco Malfoy was shagging someone in _their_ dorm. 

Draco Malfoy was shagging someone in _their_ dorm, on _their_ couch.

The mystery girl’s school skirt barely covered anything as she straddled the blond beneath. Hermione saw those same long, lean fingers she’d thought about more than a time or two pressing bruises into the swell of an arse she certainly didn’t recognize. 

Sucking in a sharp breath, she held it as she watched them writhe together. Moans and groans and slapping skin mixed with _his bloody name_ in a sinful symphony of surreality. The witch panted his name as he drove into her over and over and _over_ again. 

Hermione couldn’t tear her eyes away. 

She watched, frozen to the spot, panting out a breath, before she tightened her fist until she felt something within her snap. 

It was irrational, Hermione knew, but she was suddenly so angry she could hardly see straight.

What gave him the right to occupy their shared space and drive her from her own dorm?

What gave him the right to sully _their_ couch? She'd never be able to sit on it again without the image of him shagging someone burning her brain!

What gave him the right to shag any willing witch?

It didn’t matter that he knew she was scheduled for rounds tonight. 

It didn’t matter that she wasn’t scheduled to return for quite some time. 

She clenched her jaw and balled her fist as she watched one of those willing witches pant and moan as she rode him. Clearly, his reputation hadn’t been simply gossip fodder if the sounds the girl made were any indication. It was unlike anything she’d seen before. Unlike anything she’d ever even _heard._

There was a fine line between love and hate. An even finer one between fucking and shagging, but Hermione knew the differences well enough. She’d had both at one time or another, and what was transpiring on the couch she vowed she’d never sit on again was certainly the latter. Draco’s hips were snapping against the other witch with a sense of reckless abandon, driving into her so hard Hermione could see his thighs clench with each movement. 

And in that moment, watching him fuck this witch to within an inch of her life and listening to the way her pleasure consumed her, Hermione realized anger wasn’t the only thing she was feeling.

* * *

_Harder. Faster. Deeper. Dracooooo._

Susan or Sharon, or whoever she was, howled his name as he felt her heat clench with release. _Fucking finally,_ he thought, picking up the pace and driving into her in search of his own end. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy fucking this witch. She was pliant and willing and fit enough. But every time she spoke, it reminded Draco that she wasn’t the witch he really wanted. She wasn’t the witch who had been driving him spare for months.

Sex had never meant much to him. Shagging a witch was just a means to an end and a warm willing hole was superior to his own fist in almost every scenario. This particular witch, who was now moaning so loud it was bordering on obnoxious, had been pursuing him for some time. Draco knew what she was after: his family name, which somehow still held a modicum of prestige, and the fortune that came with it, which had taken a hefty hit after the war but remained more than simply substantial.

Just for once, he wished a witch would want something more than just the Lady Malfoy moniker and the Galleons in his vault, but he supposed he didn’t deserve much depth of thought for anyone that mattered.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting it— _craving it_ —from one particular witch he shouldn’t even entertain the idea of. 

Pressing his eyes shut and focusing on the feel of her cunt still fluttering with aftershocks, Draco tried to pretend she was someone else. He tried to tune this witch’s voice in his head to a different frequency as he drew close and closer to release. But she opened her bloody mouth again and the illusion of amber eyes and barrel curls shattered as she shouted his name, which somehow sounded even more sour the millionth time. Fed up with the sham and snapping his hips so hard he thought he might break her in half, he reached up and shoved two fingers in her mouth, pushing her tongue down. Her eyes went wide but Draco barely registered her the second he caught a glimpse of movement just over her shoulder. 

No way.

No _fucking_ way.

What he saw was a surprise to them both; those amber eyes he’d been picturing locked onto his own. He paused for a slice of a second, blinking once then twice. His frantic thrusts slowed to long, languid pushes of his hips as the unwitting witch moaned around his fingers. Pressing them down harder to shut her the fuck up, his gaze never strayed from Hermione’s heated stare.

It felt like they were engaged in a war of wills. 

He watched those supple thighs clench together, ruffling her school skirt that looked a bit too short over her newfound hips. He watched her teeth dig into the swell of her lower lip, leaving it nearly white from the pressure. But what surprised him most of all wasn’t the brave little Gryffindor standing there with blatant desire burning in those gorgeous eyes. No, in that very instant, as his balls rose and he neared his peak, staring from across the scant space, he was surprised to see her hand shoved up under the hem of her skirt. 

She watched him all the while, practically daring him to carry on, and Draco was never one to turn down a challenge—especially when his victory could mean something so sweet. 

He could come, with her name on his lips, and his eyes boring into hers. 

It certainly wasn’t the way he’d envisioned their first tryst, but watching the pristine Gryffindor princess bury two fingers beneath the lace of her knickers, and pleasure herself to the thought of _him_ set his blood to a frantic boil. With one hand still grasped around Shirley’s (sure, close enough) hip and the other shoved into her mouth, he bucked his hips up into her, watching Granger’s wrist twist in time with each motion. 

It was the most erotic sight he’d ever seen, and he had to will himself to stave off his own climax as he pulled the witch down harder, faster, delighting in the Head Girl matching his pace. 

He wanted to fucking burst, but not before he saw her break first. 

One, two, three snaps of his hips later, and he was so close he thought he could come if he heard the smallest sound from the witch across the room. If her heavy-lidded eyes and saccharine smirk were anything to go by, she wasn’t far behind. 

He fucking _refused_ to come first.

Pulling his fingers out of the witch’s mouth, Draco grasped her shoulders and pulled her against his chest, hissing, “Quiet,” in her ear as he watched Hermione’s knees nearly quake with the need for release.

Just then, like a flash of lightning, he had the most brilliant idea. 

It happened all at once. 

When his balls clenched and he found his end, his mouth formed a name it shouldn’t have known so well on the ghost of a breath.

Shannon shoved him—hard—breaking his trance. 

Hermione’s hand was slick with her own arousal and her eyes were wide. On his lap, the witch leaned back, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. 

“What the fuck did you just say?”

In the blink of an eye, Hermione was gone, and Draco was left swimming in visions of her delicate fingers slick and soaked, her eyes fluttering as she came. It was a beautiful sight he wished he could burn into his brain and conjure up at a moment’s notice. 

His voice was low, even to his own ears, rough as it pulled over hoarse vocal cords when he said, “Get out.” 

Samatha protested but Draco was more than done, shoving her off of his cock. “I said get the fuck out,” he growled. 

If he knew her, he might have felt bad, but just like the bevy of other witches that threw themselves at him with the hopes of capturing a heart that wasn’t up for grabs, he knew she wanted something he had no intention of giving her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to thank so many people for their help. Over the last few months [msmerlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmerlin/pseuds/msmerlin), [weestarmeggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weestarmeggie/pseuds/weestarmeggie), [inadaze22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inadaze22/pseuds/inadaze22), [bionically](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bionically/pseuds/bionically), and [heavyliesthecrown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavyliesthecrown/pseuds/heavyliesthecrown) have all provided valuable feedback and encouragement. Extra thanks are in order for my fantastic beta [PacificRimbuad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pacificrimbaud/pseuds/pacificrimbaud). I count myself VERY lucky to have each and every one of them involved with this piece and I HIGHLY recommend you check out their author's pages too! They're all excellent and accomplished authors!


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione’s cheeks burned— _actually fucking burned_ —as she felt hot tears track down her face. 

She was an idiot. 

A foolish, impulsive, too-brave-for-her-own-good bloody _idiot._

Racing down the halls that were thankfully still empty, Hermione climbed the stairs as quickly as her legs would carry her. She was sweaty and soaked, her release still slick between her thighs. 

_What had just happened?_

Rationally, she knew exactly what, but Hermione couldn’t begin to wrap her brain around the reckless decision to stand there and… 

Shaking her head, she refused to relive the moment. 

She’d just never seen anything quite like it. 

Yes. That _must’ve_ been why she’d been rooted to the spot. 

Admitting to herself, even for an instant, that it was anything beyond a sick sort of curiosity was something Hermione couldn’t bring herself to do. 

The Gryffindor common room was blessedly empty given the late hour. With a few floors separating her from her bed, Hermione cast a quick cleansing charm, wiping away any evidence of her indiscretion, before falling into a dreamless sleep on the lumpy couch.

* * *

Apparently blushing was Hermione’s newest state of being. 

After being woken up by a red-faced Neville Longbottom as he stuttered about some sounds she was supposedly making, her cheeks hadn’t stopped burning. She’d sat through breakfast, wandlessly and wordlessly casting cooling charms on her cheeks at every opportunity, but based on the way Ginny quirked a brow and smirked at her, they didn’t work quite as well as she’d hoped.

She’d blushed walking down the corridor on her way to Ancient Runes. 

She’d blushed as she sat down, and now, with her book open in front of her and a certain set of steel grey eyes casting glances so tangible she could feel them, she was blushing all over again. 

Hermione tried not to watch the way his fingers flexed around his quill. 

She tried not to think about what those same lean fingers looked like gripping a swell of flesh just the night before. 

And she tried even harder not to imagine what they might feel like pressed against her skin, or worse, underneath the waistband of her knickers. 

Hermione groaned.

“Miss Granger.” McGonagall’s sharp voice cut through her mental fog. Hermione reasoned, at the very least, her blush wouldn’t seem ill-placed for the first time that day as she snapped her attention to the front of the room. “Would you care to answer the question?”

“Of course.” She certainly hadn’t been listening, but her powers of deduction were second to none. A few runes were sketched on the board that she recognized, but whether her professor wanted to know their meanings or applications or how they worked together among a million other possibilities was still a mystery to Hermione. Buying time, she cleared her throat and straightened her spine. “The uhm… the answer to your question is…” She cleared her throat again.

“I believe the answer you’re looking for is The Theory of Elemental Magic established in 1853.” 

The drawl of Malfoy’s voice sent shivers up Hermione’s spine.

“Correct Mr. Malfoy. Five points to Slytherin.” 

McGonagall began pacing in front of the class as she always did and Hermione tried to shrink back in her chair. As if the night before hadn’t been bad enough, now he seemed to want to embarrass her in class as well. 

* * *

Thankfully, Hermione only shared the one class with Malfoy on Fridays, but they were scheduled to complete rounds together later that night. Throughout the day, when she’d seen a flash of blond in the corridor, she’d ducked into the closest alcove or hurried to her next class. Avoiding him the rest of the day had turned out to be surprisingly easy. Potions had ended ten minutes early and she’d managed to sneak into the Head Dorm before he returned from his classes. Knowing he’d be back any moment, she rushed past the couch without a second glance and raced to her room, warded and silenced the door, then threw herself across her crimson covers. 

Their rounds didn’t start for another two hours so she reasoned she had time to pull herself together, but not before allowing a moment to bemoan her current predicament. 

It wasn’t like she was some inexperienced child. She’d been with men before—granted, not very many. Sex had always been… _adequate._ But the way the girl last night had moaned his name like she was stretching her vocal range was downright foreign. What she’d witnessed was nothing like her own experiences. Rather than gritting her teeth and holding her breath, the girl had practically been manhandled, having her pleasure controlled at the hands of a man who clearly knew what he was doing. 

The sounds still haunted her, those breathy moans and stuttered grunts sounded even more obscene echoed in her own mind, and Hermione pressed her thighs together at the intensity of her recollection. 

It wasn’t some head of dark hair behind her lids though. 

_No._

The scene played out in sinful snippets of blond fringe, sweat-slicked and mussed, plastered to an equally pale face. Knuckles gripping flesh so tight they turned white. A chiseled jaw clenched. Piercing grey eyes. His mouth forming…

_Okay, no._

Hermione had to stop. 

She huffed a breath and pulled herself up to sit on her bed. Fancying her dorm mate and fellow Head was quite possibly the worst idea she’d ever had. She’d been reminding herself of that fact for weeks.

Especially since that wizard happened to be Draco Sodding Malfoy.

Draco could have any girl he wanted, inside the walls of Hogwarts or out. The war may have stained the Malfoy name, but much like the finest silver, with a little polish—in the way of hefty reparations and donations that probably barely scraped the surface of his wealth—it was nearly as alluring as it had been for decades. 

Hermione, too, had plenty of suitors. She, however, had not been pursuing everything with a pulse since she’d returned to school. 

It was silly to even entertain the idea of shagging Malfoy. Every time she saw him, a different, starry-eyed girl was not far behind. Save for the few Prefect meetings and nights they’d both stayed in their private dorm with their respective studies, he was constantly flanked by batting eyelashes and a chorus of swoons. It was sickening, really, that she’d had to go and develop this infinitesimal… _fascination_ with the blond. He was infuriating, insufferable, downright _indecent_ with that stupid smirk and too straight teeth. Those teeth that might sink right into _—_ wait, no. That’s not what she’d meant. Clearly stewing in her own ire was doing nothing to quell the mounting desire each time she closed her eyes and found the memory of his image. 

Checking the time again, she groaned. 

An hour to go. 

* * *

Hermione Granger was irritating for a great many reasons. Her hand practically vibrated in the air when she knew the right answer to any question. Her tone took on a weight when she was feeling bossy that felt far too heavy for that fit little body—as Head Girl, that seemed to be more often than not. She was _always_ right, even when she wasn’t. But for all of her vexatious qualities, and there were far too many for him to adequately list in his current state of annoyance, Draco couldn’t _stop_ thinking about her. 

Long before finding her whiskey-coloured eyes glued to him in the heat of the moment the night before, Draco had considered his interest in the wizarding world’s most famous bookworm to be a bit of a shameful secret. A secret he’d intended to keep relegated to dark rooms, between only himself and his own hand. 

But things had changed.

Despite his numerous attempts to track her down earlier in the day, she’d somehow hidden that bushy head from him time and time again. Rapping his knuckles against her door, he knew, at the very least, she’d finally have to face him. 

“Rounds start soon, Granger.”

He waited for a beat, met with nothing but silence until she finally called, “Coming.” 

_Not yet,_ he thought, a smirk curving his lips at the memory of the night before: seeing her hand beneath the hem of her skirt, watching her eyes flutter closed as she neared her climax, studying the exact shape of her mouth as she came. 

_Fuck._

He was already getting hard again. 

This was becoming a bit of a problem. 

* * *

Draco thought it was quite fun to mess with Hermione. 

Stepping a bit closer, speaking a bit lower, even allowing their arms to brush pulled the most delightful reactions from her. He’d intended to confront her as soon as they’d started rounds, but they’d discovered an unseemly amount of students breaking curfew in various corridors. She had yet to even meet his eyes since they’d left their shared dorm, but he’d been patient enough. 

Draco leaned in, matching her pace and waiting for the perfect moment to speak. 

“Learn anything?” 

Watching her jump was possibly one of the most comical things he’d ever seen, topped only by the slight squeak she let out at the exact same moment. “Excuse me?” 

“From the last pair, of course. Even you have to admit the way they contorted themselves to fit into that alcove required a bit of…” Draco paused, licking his lips, _“skill.”_

Hermione scoffed. “I have to admit nothing of the sort and I highly doubt those two knew anything worthy of teaching someone else. From the looks of it, they were fumbling themselves.”

Draco barked a laugh. “So you did get a good look, I take it?”

“No.” Her protest was quick—too quick. Shaking her head, she crossed her arms in an adorably childish way. “Of course not.”

“Sure, Granger.” 

“You—I—” Hermione whipped around, a mass of chestnut curls whirling through the air as she spun on her heel. Her lips were pressed into a thin line and her eyes were wide with fury. She looked electric, like she might just walk right up to Draco and shock him. He thought, fleetingly, of the way her eyes had flashed the night before when she’d finally lost control.“I _refuse_ to talk about this.”

There was only a step between them, a single space with her finger hovering accusingly in the air. In an instant, he wrapped his hand around her wrist and stepped into her. Sure they were in the middle of the corridor, but they were nearing the end of their rounds anyway. 

He’d been patient enough, and from a cursory glance, it appeared they were currently alone. She still hadn’t moved an inch. Though there was a defiant tilt to her chin and her lips were pursed so tight they were practically white, her chest was also heaving and her hand was beginning to tremble. Tightening his fingers, Draco lowered her hand. 

“Refuse, hmm? Is that what you do? Stick your too stubborn nose in the middle of other people’s business then _refuse_ to speak of it again?” Her eyes dropped to the floor and his fingers tightened around her wrist. “If you won’t talk, so be it. _I_ have plenty to say on the subject, but unlike you, I don’t like the idea of airing private conversations in drafty corridors. We will continue this conversation, but I suggest we finish up and go back to our dorm. Rounds are almost over anyway, Granger. We’ll be alone before you know it.”

Her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed. Clearly, she knew he was right.

* * *

They were barely a foot in the room before her back was flat against the wall next to the door. Whether a holdover from the war or simply well-honed instincts, she looked ready to bolt at any second. 

If it was anyone else, any other witch who’d looked at him like that the night before, with her hand buried beneath her skirt and her chest painted with the sweat of release, he might have pinned her against the doorway and snogged her into willing submission. 

But Hermione was an enigma even in the simplest of ways.

Physically, all the obvious signs pointed to her interest. But her eyes betrayed the forced composure, and despite the defiant set of her jaw, he saw the fissures in her facade.

“Well then, spit it out.” The sting of her words was a tingle at best when coupled with the laboured rise and fall of each breath. “Apparently you have plenty to say, so go ahead.”

When he didn’t speak, she huffed out a breath and stalked across the room, leaving him standing still as a war waged in his mind. 

Could he do this? 

He’d never been labeled as brave, but feigned bravado had always sufficed for a substitute. 

Glancing over, he followed the click of a mug and found her standing with her back to him as she prepared herself a cup of tea. It was a signal that she was ready for bed, the final mark in her normal nightly routine, and that simply wouldn’t do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Fancy seeing you here again. 
> 
> I want to say thank you to my friends [msmerlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmerlin/pseuds/msmerlin), [weestarmeggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weestarmeggie/pseuds/weestarmeggie), [inadaze22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inadaze22/pseuds/inadaze22), [bionically](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bionically/pseuds/bionically), and [heavyliesthecrown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavyliesthecrown/pseuds/heavyliesthecrown) for pushing me to publish this and looking it over in the early stages!
> 
> I owe thanks to my beta, [PacificRimbuad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pacificrimbaud/pseuds/pacificrimbaud), for her keen eye and unfailing support. If you guys haven't read her works, you are HONESTLY missing out. 
> 
> Last but not least, thanks so much to all of YOU for reading along with this smutty little thing. I think everyone will be quite pleased with the plan for Chapter 3 so stay tuned! 😏😏😏


	3. Chapter 3

Of course Malfoy would be all talk with no action. He’d had his fair share of moments to draw definitive lines, yet he’d always stuck to the shadows and slunk into silence when things got tough. Gritting her teeth, she slapped a mug down on the counter hard enough to remind her that charming her mugs ages ago was a brilliant idea.

_ He just wants to get a rise out of you, Hermione. You’re better than that. Don’t give him the satisfaction.  _

Stewing and trying to tamp down the swell of shame she felt at the memories she’d been dwelling on all day, she missed the sound of his heavy steps until it was too late.

Warm puffs of air tickled the wayward curls dancing along the line of her neck. 

At that moment, Hermione was acutely aware of every single follicle tingling to attention. 

“You’re impossible, witch.” Before she could say a word—plenty of which were poised at the tip of her tongue—lean fingers slid around the curve of her waist. “Not so brave now, are you little lion?”

Hermione forgot to breathe; the air that should have been filling her lungs was lodged in her throat. Sharp fingertips dug into the top of her hip. His breath was hot scorching against her skin and his hands were, too hot, even through the fabric of her skirt. Despite her best efforts, her eyes fluttered closed at the contact. 

“The good news is, you don’t have to say a word for me to read you loud and clear.” His fingers skated along the swell of her curves. “But you see, I have a problem, Granger.” 

“You do?” It took everything in her to suppress the sigh as he stepped into her, removing his hand in the process and flattening his palms against the counter on either side of hers. He wasn’t quite close enough to touch, hovering just far enough away for her to feel that fuzzy sense of awareness that should have meant danger but felt much more like relief. 

“I do.” It was a ghost of a breath, tingling against the thin skin of her neck. “My problem is you.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm. You see, I can’t stop thinking about your face when you came.” Hermione felt a shiver climb the length of her spine. “But that’s nothing new. Only now that I  _ know _ what it looks like”—the tip of his nose grazed her ear—“I want to see it again.”

A gust of air rushed from her lungs.

“And again and again and  _ again,”  _ he whispered.

“That does—” Hermione cleared her throat, grasping at the fraying threads of her rationale, and clinging to any sense of reason she could summon. “That does sound like a problem.”

Draco Malfoy didn’t typically laugh. He didn’t giggle or chuckle or even crack a smile very often that wasn’t laced with a sneer. But the rumble from his chest was undeniably amusement. 

“Tell me, Hermione…” He said her name like it was made of syrup, dripping with sin and damn near indecent. “Is there anything that  _ you _ can’t stop imagining?”

She gulped.

“Anything at all?” he asked.

When she didn’t answer, he tsked and pulled back a fraction of an inch.

“Have you been thinking about me? Thinking about my lips forming your name? Thinking about my hands? My cock?”

An involuntary shudder wracked her body and she could practically hear the satisfied smile stretch across his lips. 

“Yes.” The confession came out as little more than a whisper. 

“Tell me.”

A beat passed, then two. The silence sat thick between them, her heart thumping so loud she was  _ sure _ he could hear it. 

“You want me to—to… I  _ can’t.” _

He hummed, and though he wasn’t  _ quite _ touching her, she could feel the vibration. 

“You can”—his tone brokered no room for argument—“and you _ will.  _ Don’t lose your courage now, little lion. Be  _ brave.” _

If she wasn’t so turned on, she might have thought he was mocking her, but the evidence of his arousal was clear, grazing against the curve of her rear and coloring his tone. 

“I’ve been thinking about the um…” Hermione sucked in a breath. “I’ve been thinking about the—the sounds you made.”

“Good girl.”

She preened at the praise.

“Tell me more about these sounds,” he whispered.

Licking her lips, Hermione forced herself to form words. “I can’t  _ stop  _ thinking about them, really.” 

It was easier to say things like this when he couldn’t see her face, when he couldn’t see the blush burning high on her cheeks or the rise and fall of her chest. In for a knut in for a Galleon, she supposed. At the very least, she could get this—whatever this strange fascination was—out of her system for good. 

“Is that all you’ve been thinking of? The sounds I made while picturing  _ your _ tits in my face and  _ your _ cunt squeezing my cock.” 

Biting her lip, she shook her head.

“Go on then.” His lips ghosted over the curve of her neck. “Tell me more.”

Hermione could  _ feel  _ his smirk. She might have laughed if she wasn’t already so far gone, drunk on her own arousal and the effect she was having on him. It was… empowering.  _ She _ was the one who did this to him.

“I—I’ve…” Her head was spinning. She was at a complete and utter loss for words. She wasn’t even sure how to articulate exactly what she’d pictured. It was some strange amalgamation of fantasies she’d never expected to admit dusted with bits of reality. But in that moment, she didn't care for such things as logic or any sense of shame. “I’ve wondered what it—what _ you _ might—might feel like. Watching you was… It was incredible. Like everything I’d imagined only…  _ more.” _

“Mmm. You’re doing so well, love. Who would have thought good little Hermione Granger liked a bit of kink.” Draco pushed his hand closer to hers on the counter and traced the outside of her palm with a single finger. “I have to say, I like it.” He pressed a kiss along the curve of her throat and Hermione thought she might melt right there on the spot. His lips were firm for the split second they made contact, hot against her neck and  _ insistent. _ When he nipped at her ear, she couldn’t stop the noise she made in response. “One last question. Do you want to watch me?”

“Watch you?” She didn’t even recognize the pitch of her own voice. 

Draco hummed, his lips lingering against the shell of her ear. “You know exactly what I’m asking. It’s beneath you to play dumb, Granger.”

Hermione sucked in a breath.  _ Did she want to watch him get off? Yes. Absolutely. Unequivocally. _ But she couldn’t summon the words, so she dipped her head in some semblance of a nod as an involuntary shudder skittered up her spine. 

“Well, you know where to find me.” 

And just like that, his hands were gone from the counter and the heat of his body was nothing more than a memory. 

* * *

Draco had always had a strong sense of self-preservation. Keeping his cool was a skill he’d honed over time into a mask of indifference, but it was hard to keep his composure with the sound of her footsteps echoing just on the other side of his door.

He was stretched out on his bed, shirtless, with a book on his lap that might as well have been in another language. He couldn’t comprehend a single written word with every ounce of blood in his body currently pulsing through his cock. He was  _ so fucking hard _ and all he wanted to do was wrap his hand around himself and wank to Hermione’s earlier confessions. 

But he didn’t. He  _ wouldn’t. _

He had a firm grip on his self-control—despite his body trying to tell him otherwise. 

He wasn’t even sure she would actually come into the room. Clearly, she hadn’t made up her mind if the way she was pacing back and forth was any indication. 

_ Be brave, _ he thought. 

As though he’d willed it into reality, the knob of his door creaked and Hermione slipped inside. 

Fixing his eyes to the pages of the book spread out across his lap, Draco waited. 

And waited. 

And waited.

A few moments passed, marked by nothing more than the shared silence before he decided to take matters into his own hands. 

“Is there something you wanted, Granger?” 

He flipped a page and ignored the urge to look at her. In his periphery, he could see her leaning against the wall just inside the door. She mumbled something far too low for him to decipher. 

“I didn’t quite catch that.” He flipped the page again, his eyes skimming over words that currently held no meaning, well aware that even  _ she _ was incapable of reading that fast. “You’ll have to speak up.”

“I said I want to watch you.” 

For as imposing as Hermione had always been, outspoken and unrepentant in everything she set her mind to, in that moment, she sounded shy. Draco carefully slid a piece of parchment between the pages of his book and set it aside. He finally looked up to meet her eyes, expecting a vision of hesitancy, but all he was met with was the picture of arousal. Her lips were parted, her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was frizzed just around the edges. He felt his heart thump hard in his chest.

“C’mhere. I want to see you.” 

Draco wasn’t sure why he’d called her over. He could say a part of him was afraid she would change her mind. Already poised for a swift exit, it wouldn’t take much for her to make the split-second decision. But a larger part of him, the part that put this plan into action in the first place, was desperate to be near her. 

In a few short steps, she was standing at the edge of the bed, twisting the fabric of her skirt between her fingers. The press of her teeth against her lower lip left little white indents, and Draco reached up to thumb it free. 

“You have no idea what that does to me.” He skimmed the tip of his thumb along the dip of her lower lip before he tilted her chin to meet his eyes. “What  _ you _ do to me.” She held his gaze as she licked her lips. “Do you want me to show you?”

“Yes.” Unlike before, her voice was firm, still low, but entirely certain. 

“Good girl.” When she shuddered, he had to stop his lips from twisting into a smile. “Get on the bed.”

Scooting over, he made room for her to lay down beside him. There was something about seeing her in his spot, with those riotous curls tossed across his silk pillowcase, that made his dick twitch. 

“You’re going to stay perfectly still and watch. Understand?”

Hermione’s amber eyes were wide as she nodded. 

Trailing his fingertips down the center of his chest, Draco took his time. Her eyes were glued to his every movement. When he finally reached the placket of his trousers, rather than reaching right in, he gripped his length through the fabric. She bit her lip again and it took everything in him not to pull it free.  _ Gods this was better than any fantasy he’d ever had. _

He made a show of popping open the button on his trousers, took his time dragging the zipper down every jagged tooth. There was something supremely satisfying about watching the way her gaze never strayed. She was transfixed on each movement, still as stone, and though he thought it impossible to be any more aroused, he was growing stiffer by the second. 

His impatience won out as he vanished every stitch of clothing covering his body, a useful bit of wandless magic that never ceased to elicit a response. When his hand finally wrapped around his shaft, she made a noise that sounded like a moan and groan mixed together, and visibly clenched her thighs.  _ Good _ , he thought. 

“Sometimes I think about what’s under that short skirt of yours.” Draco started with long, languid strokes. “I wonder what your cunt might look like, whether you have a thatch of thick hair between your legs or if your lips are shaved bare. I wonder how you might taste.” He licked his lips and twisted his wrist, keeping the painfully slow pace. It was for his own hope of holding back his release as much as for her enjoyment. “I wonder just what it takes to make you drip.”

She shivered.

“Touch yourself, Hermione.” Her chin jerked up, snapped from the trance she’d been in since he’d started stroking himself. “I won’t tell anyone the Gryffindor Princess likes to be bad every now and then.”

“Will you—will you keep talking?” 

“If that’s what you want.” He squeezed the base of his cock just in time for her to see. “Sometimes I wonder how many times I could make you come. In the shower, I lean against the wall some days and think about that fit little body of yours in the exact same place. I think about your cheek pressed against the tile and my name echoing off the walls as I drive into you over and over and  _ over  _ again.”

Hermione slipped a slim hand beneath her skirt. 

Draco paused. 

“None of that. It’s only fair I get to see you, too.”

Hermione took a deep breath. “Right. Okay.”

She was surprisingly graceful as she shed layer after layer and tossed her clothes to the side. One particular piece of clothing was missing though, one he’d hoped to keep as a souvenir. 

“Naughty little witch, aren’t you?” Draco’s eyes were fixed on the thatch of curls between her legs. “Tell me, did you pull off your knickers before you came to my door, or have you been bare beneath that little skirt all day?”

“Before I came here,” she said. Her lashes fluttered as she looked up at him. “They were ruined anyway.”

Draco laughed, a deep, satisfying sound that caused his lips to curl and his cheeks to flush. “I have to say, I quite enjoy this side of you.”

She bit her lip and ducked her head, spinning a single finger in circles against the duvet. “That makes two of us.” 

“C’mhere.” It wasn’t a word so much as a whisper and Draco reached up with his free hand and trailed his fingertips along the curve of her jaw. 

They both moved closer, laying on their sides with less than enough space for a body between them. He resumed his earlier movements, gliding his palm along the firm length of his cock. Settling his fingers in the tangle of curls at the base of her neck, he tugged her head back to make sure she could see him when he spoke. 

“Do you want to come, Hermione?” 

_ “Yes.”  _

Her lashes kissed the high of her cheeks and she let out a low moan as her hand slipped between her legs. 

Draco looked down just in time to see those delicate fingers trace the line of her lips, circling around the little bundle of nerves before dipping lower. 

“Show me how you like to be touched." He was still dragging out his own pleasure in slow strokes and the occasional squeeze to stave off his impending release. “Show me how you touch yourself when you’re thinking of me.  _ Tell me  _ what you want.”

Hermione’s focus once again returned to his cock. Draco let his forehead press against hers, tilting his head down to watch her nimble fingers glide along the seam of her sex. 

“I want”—two fingers slipped into her cunt and she moaned—“I want to feel you inside of me. Stretching me. I want to feel your cock slam into me until I'm gasping for breath.” She whimpered, speeding up the rhythm of her fingers. He followed suit, twisting his wrist as he picked up the pace. “I want to feel consumed.”

She gasped, pressing her forehead firmer against his, adrift in her own bliss. He was close, too. 

“Do you want what you saw for yourself, Hermione?” It only took a minuscule movement for his lips to graze hers, not quite a kiss, but close enough to devour every breath. “Do you want to ride me? To clench that pretty little cunt around my cock. Do you want to come with my name on your lips?”

_ “Yes.” _

Any ounce of self-control he’d been clinging to before vanished. Draco’s hand left his cock to wrap around the curve of her hip as his lips pressed forward in a searing kiss. She moaned into his mouth and twisted her slick fingers through his hair. He could  _ smell _ her arousal, could practically taste it on her tongue, and he knew he needed her— _ now. _

Gripping the flesh of her thigh, he pulled her closer and rolled them over, kissing her until his vision was fuzzy and he was forced to take a breath. Her knees pressed into the mattress on either side of his hips as her fingers dug into his chest. Her cunt slid, soaked and slippery, against his length until the head of his cock nudged her clit and her eyes rolled back. 

“Draco, please.” 

Reaching down, he gripped himself and tilted his hips, lining up the weeping head of his cock with her warm, welcoming entrance. When he slipped inside of her, she moaned again, a sound he was sure he could never tire of. 

“Gods,  _ fuck, _ your cunt is like a fucking dream, love. Did you know that?” He pushed himself inside, fighting the resistance of her fluttering walls.

“Draco—I—it’s…” Her nails dug crescents into the pale expanse of his chest. Deep and dark,  _ fresh _ marks were littered amongst the long scars covering his flesh. “Merlin, you’re…” She moaned.

Draco was well aware of his exact increment above average. Teenage boys were known to compare and contrast, and just like with everything else he did in his younger years, Draco had known he was special in this area, too. 

“That’s it, sink down slowly.” With a firm grip on her hips, he thrust, little by little, until he was buried to the hilt. “So fucking tight.  _ So perfect. _ My naughty little lion. _ ” _

She sat there for a moment, astride his hips, gulping in each breath, until he ran his hands up her curves and grazed the side of her breast. “Your tits are perfect, too.” He plucked a puckered nipple and she keened, tightening her already impossibly firm grip on his cock. Closing his lips around a dusty pink areola, he slid his tongue around in circles, sucking and biting until she started to move. 

Firm fingers tugged at the fine strands of his hair, but he wasn’t done yet. He trailed his lips in a line across her chest before lavishing the same attention on her other breast. 

The sounds she made served as the score for the evening; every moan and groan and whine and whimper bled into a chorus of need and want and more, more,  _ more. _

“Gods you’re so good.” He pulled her down against his chest and felt her shiver. “Positively dripping from that pretty little cunt. Tell me how it feels. Tell me how  _ I  _ feel. Is it how you’d imagined?”

_ “Better.” _

Draco groaned when his lips found hers, sucking her tongue into his mouth as she pumped her hips. Kissing her was like an out of body experience, the smell of their combined arousal a heady aphrodisiac as he tried to focus on each individual sensation. Her lips were firm yet pliant, her body at the will of his every whim. He buried one hand in her unruly hair and curled the other around the swell of her ass. Holding her still, he pushed himself in as deep as he could go, drinking down her moans before pulling back and doing it again. 

Draco knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He was at the mercy of his release, lost to the feel of her hot cunt squeezing his cock. Hermione didn’t seem to be far behind. Her kisses lost their force and she pulled back a fraction of an inch as a slew of whimpers filled the scant space between their lips.

“Draco, I’m gonna—”

“Come for me.” He kissed her again. “Come for me. Cover my cock in your slick. I want to feel you dripping between my thighs. Show me how wet you can get, witch. Soak my sheets.”

She keened as the walls of her pussy fluttered, and whined when her release finally washed over her. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He pulled her down against him and tilted his hips up as he found his own end, buried deep inside of her. 

Neither of them moved for a few long minutes, both panting in time and gasping in lungfuls of air. 

He was still semi-hard when she slipped off and laid down next to him. He couldn’t help himself as he reached out and ran his hand along the line of her side, following the bends of her body like a map. 

“I guess I should—”

“Stay.” The word was out of his mouth before he’d even weighed the implications of the offer. While true, he hadn’t planned to actually say it. 

But he could be brave, for once. 

Hermione's eyes tracked across his face as she bit her lip. 

"You're impossible, witch." Grazing the curve of her lip and pulling it free, he looked up again to meet her eyes. "I  _ mean  _ it. Stay."

With the slightest dip of her chin, she wound her arms, limp and loose, around his neck. This time when they kissed, it wasn’t rushed. This time, the push and pull of their lips was slow and sweet.  It was somehow different yet exactly the same, another enigma just like the witch in his arms.

She couldn’t possibly realize what it meant to him.

Part of him wondered what it meant for  _ them _ .

But rather than entertaining any ideas about all of the ways this could end, he pulled her close. In the quiet dark of his bed, he allowed himself to watch her, to study the rise and fall of her chest with each breath, to listen to the sound of her slipping into slumber. 

Despite all the ways this could go wrong, there had to be a way for him to make it right.

And, for the first time in far too long, he had plenty of time to figure it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to give one more massive thanks to my friends and editing/brainstorming team for all of their help in various drafts: [msmerlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmerlin/pseuds/msmerlin), [weestarmeggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weestarmeggie/pseuds/weestarmeggie), [inadaze22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inadaze22/pseuds/inadaze22), [bionically](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bionically/pseuds/bionically), and [heavyliesthecrown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavyliesthecrown/pseuds/heavyliesthecrown). I wrote the ending no less than five ways and with the help of my incomparable beta, [PacificRimbaud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pacificrimbaud/pseuds/pacificrimbaud), I finally landed on something that felt right and provided a proper conclusion. (You guys can thank her for me not cutting it right at "stay". LOL)
> 
> Thanks for reading along! Every comment/kudos means more than you know <3

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr [@dreamsofdramione](https://dreamsofdramione.tumblr.com)!
> 
> THANK YOU ALL for reading! Comments & kudos **always appreciated!**


End file.
